


Moving On

by Princess_Citrus



Category: Red vs. Blue
Genre: Eventual Norkington, M/M, Mental Health Issues, Minor Violence, Northington, PTSD, Past Abuse, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Slow Burn, discussion of trauma
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-06-14
Updated: 2016-05-16
Packaged: 2018-04-04 07:38:05
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 9,086
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4129906
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Princess_Citrus/pseuds/Princess_Citrus
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Out of a job and in deteriorating mental health, David Washington starts going to a free PTSD support group. There he meets a traumatized combat veteran and he tries his best to move on after his abusive ex-boyfriend's suicide.</p><p>Cute Northington about dealing with trauma.<br/>Plot-centric, maybe not smut? I thought I might, but idk. I'll change it back to E if that happens.<br/>Discussions of trauma, abuse, and suicide, trigger warnings will be posted chapter by chapter. Let me know if you want some things listed as triggers if they show up.<br/>Maybe eventual Norkington because fave</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> No major triggers this chapter, brief glimpses of trauma

It was hot and it was bright.

Hotter and brighter than anything he'd ever experienced.

If Christian Baker, nicknamed North Dakota, didn't know any better he'd have guessed he was in hell.

But he knew he wasn't. If he was in hell, at least then he'd be able to stop fighting.

The sun was beating down on him and his fatigues stuck to him from sweat and, he suspected judging from the excruciating pain in his left leg, blood. They had already lost one of their squad mates that morning, but they had to keep going.

He was vaguely aware of his CO shouting as the horizon tilted side to side, trying to keep his balance.

An IED went off on his left and his world was on fire. He could hear his friends screaming and the explosion over and over and over and over-

Barking jolted him awake. His entire body was shaking and he was covered in sweat. His hands reached for a weapon and he was frightened at first went it wasn't there. His eyes searched the room for enemies, but as they adjusted to the dark they landed on a dog standing by the side of his bed, whining, tail swaying back and forth. Lightning flashed outside his window, illuminating the room, and thunder cracked immediately after.

He swallowed thickly and took a deep breath, trying to lower his heart rate.

He was at home, in bed. He didn't keep a gun on his bed side table anymore, not after last time when he shot his alarm clock. He relaxed. "Come here, boy." He sat up and patted the bed beside him. The German shepherd jumped up onto the bed and curled up beside North, as he still liked to call himself. The dog snuggled up against him, rubbing his muzzle into his side. "You did a good job, Theta." Theta wagged his tail, slapping the bed. North yawned and glanced at the clock. It was two in the morning. He might still be able to get some sleep. He lay back down, stroking his dog until he drifted off again.

\--------------------------

"You're firing me." It was not a question.

"Technically yes. You're a great worker, Wash, and I hate to do this, but you need help." The man sitting at the desk sighed. He brushed his long black ponytail behind his shoulder. His eyes were filled with concern and his mouth was set with sympathy. "David, I don't know what you've been through, but I recognize that kind of thing when I see it. Every time the phone rings you jump, you're always checking the window locks, and-" he lowered his voice, "I know you were having a panic attack in the bathroom the other day. Everyone is worried about you. It's only a matter of time before someone gets hurt and I'm afraid that someone is gonna be you." He shuffled a few papers and handed them to Wash. "You're welcome to have your job back when things get better. I know a place where you can go to get help. I really hope you try. If you ever need to talk to someone, you have my number. I'm sorry."

Wash chewed on his cheek. He couldn't look his boss, his former boss, in the eye. He simply nodded and turned on his heel. He gathered his things as quietly as possible and clocked out for the last time. He sat in his car, head reeling and hands shaking. He caught a glimpse of himself in the rear view mirror. His hair was messy and unwashed, his chin scruffy with stubble, and his eyes looked like they had sunk back into his head. He snarled and his reflection contorted. He tore his gaze away and punched the dash with a yell, sending papers scattering all over the passenger seat. One in particular caught his eye. It was a flyer advertising a mental health clinic. The letterhead was decorated with a plethora of birds and leaves. He had no idea what they were supposed to represent. He looked at the classes offered and the times and sighed. It couldn't hurt.

Probably.

\---------------------------

Wash couldn't tell what was worse: feeling out of place at the clinic or feeling like he fit in. He checked in at the front desk, all but whispering what he was there for, and took a seat in the chairs that filled the lobby. He tried not to make any eye contact with anyone else.

"PTSD?" a voice called out. A couple people stood up and started walking towards the door. Wash followed. "Good to see you again, it's been a while," the man who had called for the group greeted some of the regulars. Wash followed the group, hanging to the back. They all filed into a class room where chairs were arranged in a smushed shape. Wash would have preferred to sit in the corner, but those chairs were the first to go. "Hello, everyone, and welcome to PTSD group. My name is Aiden. I see some new faces so how about we go around the circle and do a check in. Tell us your name and how you're doing on a scale of one to ten- one being the worst you've ever been and you need to be in the hospital and ten being you've packed your bags and are on your way to Hawaii." A chuckle went around the room. Wash wasn't paying much attention during the introductions. He didn't much like the room. It was too hot and he could hear the lights buzzing. He almost didn't notice it when it was his turn.

"Um, I'm David. I'm probably at a three. I just lost my job, so, yeah."

"Is this your first time coming to groups here, David?" Aiden asked. He nodded. "And how did you hear about us?"

"My old boss. It's the whole reason that I lost my job, really. He decided I wasn't really fit to work anymore, so, here I am."

"Well, we're glad to have you with us. It can be difficult coming to a place like this especially when you're feeling so low."

Wash just wanted the attention to not be on him anymore. His wish was granted when the door opened and a tall blonde man poked his head in. He tried to sneak in quietly, something that was difficult for a man of his size, a feat made more difficult because of the German Shepherd that he had with him. Wash tensed up when he saw the dog and breathing became much more difficult. Thankfully, the man and his dog sat on the opposite side of the room. Introductions picked up again after Wash and the circle was completed.

"Christian, did you want to do a check in?" Aiden asked as he was missed.

"Sure," he answered. He waved to the room. "I'm Christian, I'd say I'm about a four or a five today. And this here's Theta. If anyone's feeling anxious you can go ahead and pet him, he's really good for that." He scratched Theta affectionately behind the ear. "Pretty sure he's almost always at a ten," he joked.

"Four or five, that's a bit lower than your usual six," Aiden remarked.

"I've been having a rough couple of nights, what with the storms and all. Triggers a lot of flashbacks and nightmares."

"Well, hopefully we'll be able to talk about some of that stuff today. Now, let's go over some group rules. No side talking, we want to be courteous and respectful to those sharing, put your phones on vibrate, if you need to take a call you can step out into the hall, be conscious of your share time so everybody gets a chance. We also don't want to share graphic details about our traumas so we don't trigger anyone or ourselves. We're here to heal from trauma, not to relive it. If at anytime you need to leave and take a break you can." Aiden looked around the room and pulled out a workbook. "Today we're going to be talking about the symptoms of PTSD. I'm going to pass out a worksheet and some pens and everyone can go through and fill out what applies to them. First we're going to talk about the difference between simple and complex PTSD…"

It was almost too much information at once. The short term effects, the long term effects, compounding traumas- too much to take in at one time. He was glad he had a worksheet to reference. Aiden would stop occasionally to ask questions to specific people or to address specific points on the worksheet. Looking down at his own, covered in circles and x's that all tended to fall on one end on a number of scales, Wash was starting to think that Mr. Flowers was right. Maybe he did have a problem.

The hour went by quickly and Wash couldn't help but feel tired as the group drew to a close. "It was nice to meet you David. I hope we get to see you again next week." Aiden smiled gently at him, but Wash didn't even want to look at him. Wash could only muster up a non-committal shrug, but Aiden didn't press it. He wanted to be the last one to leave, but apparently some of the others had the same idea. He kept his distance from the others in the hallway. There were footsteps approaching, speeding up and the hair on the back of his neck stood up. He jumped when he heard the sound of a metallic jingle.

"Sorry, didn't mean to startle you." It was the blonde man, Christian, who came in late. The jingling was the dog's collar. He relaxed a little. "I missed your introduction. I haven't seen you around here before. My name's Christian."

Up close, Wash noticed how handsome he was. His face was a special kind of soothing that helped him feel more at ease with a dog around. He also noticed how inappropriate the thought was and looked away. "David." He was here to get help, not to get a new boyfriend.

"It's nice to meet you. First group today?" Wash nodded. "First day's a little rough; it's a lot to take in. But it's really helpful if you stick with it." God his voice was calming. He could just listen to him talk for an hour or two a week and wouldn't even need to see a therapist. "You might want to check out some of the other groups too. The meditation one is good. I thought it was a little…" he gestured with his hand, "hippie-ish at first, but it's nice." They had reached the parking lot and their paths started to split. "Nice to meet you. See you around."

"You too," Wash managed to get out.

Maybe he would go back next week.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tw for slurs at the beginning and descriptions of anxiety

Sweat dripped down Wash's face. Every word made his stomach clench like a vice. He was just glad he hadn't talked at all about his trauma yet.

"I'm telling you, they were faggots, I know it. I could tell, the way they talked together, like they were _flirting_. Makes me sick just to think about it. That's what happens when they take God out of schools, know what I'm saying? A couple of faggots stick up your goddamn corner store and kill everybody-"

"Stassney," Wash was grateful that Aiden cut the man off. He felt like he was going to throw up. He tried his best not to make a move, not to implicate himself in anyway. "We don't want to talk about our traumas in that much detail. We don't want to trigger anybody. And let's try and limit our language, especially on such sensitive topics. We want to make everyone here feel safe."

Stassney shrugged. "Sorry," he muttered. Wash clenched his teeth. He should have known better than to think that this place could help him, that he could trust anyone with his secret. He looked around the room, trying to plan a sneaky exit. He could sneak out and never look back, never have to see any of these people again and no one would ever have to know. He could get a new job and tell Butch Flowers where he could stick his "help." His eyes landed on Christian. He was chewing on his cheek and his fist was wrapped tightly around Theta's leash. His eyes were watering. Theta rested his chin on Christian's knees and gazed up at him, whimpering. He saw the man take a shuddering breath and pet Theta's head, obviously trying to calm himself.

"Would you like to talk to me after group some more, Stassney?" The man in question shrugged, but he tipped the bill of his cap low over his eyes and sniffed, trying to discreetly wipe tears off of his face. "Let's talk after group." Aiden shut his book and the clapping sound seemed to jolt everyone out of their silence. "That's going to be all for today. Make sure to sign up for the spring potluck…" The rest of Aiden's words were drowned out by the sound of rustling and chatter as everyone stood to leave. Wash glanced over his shoulder and saw that Christian was hanging back.

He wondered what about Stassney's story was upsetting to him. Did it remind him of his own trauma? Or was it something else? Was he -did Wash even dare to think it- like him?

He didn't know why he decided to stay in the lobby and wait for him or what he expected, but he did. He looked over the flyers tacked up on the board with magnets over and over again until he came out of the door. He gave him a little wave. "Hey." Christian stopped by him when he greeted him. His eyes were a little puffy and his hands were trembling. "Do you want to get, like, a coffee or a smoothie or something?" His heart was hammering in his chest. What if he said no? What if he thought he was being creepy? Was he being creepy?

Christian paused while he thought about it, looking over the flyers like Wash had done. "I could go for a smoothie right about now. Sure." His face broke into a smile so soft and warm that Wash could swear he felt his heart melting.

"I know a little place nearby, a couple blocks. Not a bad walk." Christian made an expression that Wash couldn't place.

"I, uh…" Christian cleared his throat. "Want a lift?" he asked. Wash was used to walking and taking the bus everywhere so it came as a bit of a shock to him that he would want to drive, but he didn't say anything about it.

"Okay," he answered, trying to keep the confusion out of his voice.

They walked out to the parking lot, passing two people talking and smoking right next to the no smoking sign. Christian had a nice car and Wash felt a little nervous getting into it. It felt so personal. Theta dutifully climbed into the back and sat on his designated blanket. The radio was playing a commercial for laser eyebrow removal and Christian hurriedly turned it off. It was awkward and quiet as they pulled away from the clinic. Wash stuttered as he gave directions and could feel his face heating up. His hands were balled into fists on his knees. He was hyper aware of everything going on around them; the traffic that they passed, sounds of construction, the bass that shook the windows of a nearby car, the lights blinking at a crosswalk. He tried to take deep breaths as discreetly as he could.

They were both a little shaky when they walked in, Wash clenching his teeth and Christian had a death grip on Theta's leash. Theta looked back and forth between them, as if trying to decide which one needed comfort more. It was almost comical. If Wash hadn't been so anxious he might have made a joke about it. 'Look at us,' he'd say, 'two grown ass men freaking out about getting smoothies after our PTSD group at a mental health clinic.' Instead, they stared at the menu boards in silence, only giving some variance of "oh, we're not ready yet," when the teen working the counter asked if they could help them.

Wash pulled out his wallet and thumbed through the bills, counting them. He should have enough. He stepped up to the counter first, not making eye contact with the worker. He only stuttered a little bit when he ordered and only dropped a few coins on the ground, cursing his shaking hands under his breath. He grabbed his change and receipt as tightly as possible and scooted out of the way to smooth out the bills and place everything back in his wallet in order. Christian's voice was clipped and polite, asking quietly after ordering if they offered a military discount. They did not. The teen apologized several times and Christian assured them each time that it was okay.

Wash waited inside for their smoothies while Christian got them a seat outside. Wash was relieved when he suggested it, not sure how long he could handle being inside the cramped, fluorescently lit building. When he came out, Christian was pouring water out of a bottle into a collapsible dish for Theta. It was a nice day. The sun was out, fighting against the late winter chill. They knew better than to hope that winter was over; it had a habit of hanging around well after Spring technically began.

They sipped their smoothies in silence, a strawberry banana with a protein boost for Wash and a peaches and cream with vitamin C for Christian. It was the first time Wash had ever really comforted someone before and he wasn't too sure how it was supposed to work. "So, Christian…" he began, searching for something to say.

"Call me North. I don't ever really go by Christian outside of group."

Wash smiled a little. "Well then, I'll have to ask you to call me Wash."

"Sounds like there's a story behind that."

"You first."

Christian- no, North smiled. "Well, I suppose my full title is North Dakota. My parents were…very in tune with nature; always hiking and camping and rock climbing- very active people. It didn't stop when my mom was pregnant either. Sure, she didn't do much repelling once she passed her first trimester, but she was always out with my dad on some kind of nature trail." He stirred his smoothie with his straw, trying to fish out a chunk of peach. "She was almost nine months when she and dad were on a road trip to the Black Hills when she went into labor. They were in North Dakota at the time, but they were close to the border, so the closest hospital was in South Dakota. Long story short, I happened in the ambulance on the northern side of the border and my twin sister happened right after they crossed the state line. They called us North and South to keep us separate as kids. The nickname followed me into the marines to keep me straight from another Christian in our squad. South stuck with my sister too, when she was on her college rugby team." Wash listened with rapt attention. North relaxed considerably throughout his story telling, his shoulders dropping down like he hadn't realized they were tensed. His face looked softer as he looked up, like he had lost some of his worries. "So what about you, Wash?"

He laughed and looked away, feeling self conscious now that North's attention was on him. "Wow, I don't know how to follow that up. I don't really have a story. I wish I had time to make one up. My middle name's Washington and there were other Davids in class so…" he shrugged.

The way North was looking at him made his heart flutter. "It fits you."

Wash smiled and rubbed the back of his neck. "I had one class freshman year that had five Davids in it."

North laughed, a beautiful sound. It made Wash happy to hear it, glad that he was feeling better. "Five? That's ridiculous."

"I know, right?" Wash said in between sips of smoothie, barely swallowing before talking again. He noticed that North was staring at him. He gulped his current mouthful. "What? Is there something on my face?" he asked, wiping his lips with the back of his hand. North's cheeks went pink and he glanced away.

"It's nothing." Now Wash really wanted to know what he was thinking. "We should do this again sometime. It was fun." Oh my god he was blushing. Wash could feel his own cheeks heating up and wished that he could blush as discreetly as North. North looked like his cheeks were dusting with a little pink, Wash looked like a tomato. He noticed North inhale, like he was going to say something, then bite his lip instead.

Wash wanted to ask him about it, but instead said "Yeah." Yeah? Ugh, that was not cool at all.

"Do you want a ride somewhere?" North asked and Wash went stiff.

"No thanks," he answered, trying to unclench his jaw. He didn't want anyone knowing where he lived, not even someone as nice as North.

"I'll see you next Wednesday, then?" North offered, standing up. Wash tried to smile and nodded.

"See you." He watched as North walked away with Theta, noticing that he seemed to be favoring his right leg. He frowned, but waved at North as he passed. He waited until North's car was gone before throwing out his trash and starting the walk back to his apartment.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wash has some internalized ableism, just wanting to make it clear that it's Wash's own feelings about mental illness and not my personal views.
> 
> TW for suicide mention

When Wash first went into his job interview, he was terrified that he would be the oldest person there. It was embarrassing to think that he was applying for a fast food job as he was coming up on thirty. He was surprised and relieved to see that there were men and women ten to twenty years older than him working there. He felt bad that he felt bad about it, especially considering that plenty of his coworkers were as down-on-their-luck as he was and quite a few of them as overqualified too. It looked like Flowers wasn't going to be giving him his job back anytime soon, though he had left some messages on his voicemail asking how he was doing and offering to listen if he ever needed to talk. He just needed some way to make money and this looked like it was going to be his only option. He didn't have the luxury of waiting to find a better job. He was running out of money pretty quickly and it would take a while for his food stamp application to go through. He would take what he could get.

The interview was quick even though it was uncomfortable. The portly woman who shuffled through the papers had clearly not brushed her teeth in a while; her thinning brown hair escaped the sides of her hairnet and Wash couldn't help but notice every single time she used the pen she was writing with to scratch at her scalp and how it came away with bits of dandruff clinging to it. He made sure to keep his face polite and breathe through his mouth. She didn't even bother to look at his resume, guessing that he was more than qualified for the job. As soon as she heard that he could work late nights/early mornings she handed him the pen to sign his name. He grasped it gingerly with his fingertips and discreetly wiped them on his pants after he signed. She asked him for his shirt size and handed him an apron wrapped in plastic and a hat and told him to come in Friday at 7 pm for training.

It was as unpleasant a job as he'd ever had, much worse than when he was a bag boy in high school. Even though he didn't stick out because of his age or qualifications it was still an outsider. Everyone else got along so well with each other. They were all friends, many of them family. He almost felt like he was intruding just by working there. He mostly kept to himself. He stocked, he cleaned, he prepped food for the next morning, and he helped close up. The night manager that he worked mostly with, was nice enough, telling him how glad he was to have such a reliable worker, praising him for how quickly he learned. He hated it. He was a grown man spiraling into mental breakdown territory; he didn't care to hear how good he was at mopping. He usually went home at 3 in the morning after closing, more exhausted than he could remember being in a long time. For the first time in what felt like forever, he didn't have any trouble sleeping.

His plans to work and clean and exercise and shower and be productive all fell by the wayside. It was all he could do to drag himself out of bed in time for group, then monthly (if he was lucky) therapy, and then to work. He hadn't realized how much of his lust for life he had lost. His xbox was practically gathering cobwebs underneath his TV, he couldn't remember the last time he went for a jog or a hike. He stopped seeing his friends when he lost his old job. His closest friend, Connie, was a public defender and he didn't want her to see him like this.

He could all but feel the anniversary of Epsilon's suicide creeping up on him. As much as it was a date he did not want to remember, there was no way to forget it. The things he saw that day had been permanently seared into his mind. His mind would not allow him to forget. He'd only just begun talking about that whole…situation with his therapist.

He wasn't even close to talking about it in group. He wasn't sure how he could even reveal being in a good, healthy gay relationship, let alone an abusive, codependent one. He could name a few people who would tell him plainly that that was just what happened in gay relationships, that that would never happen with a woman or that he must have been abused by his father and that was why he was gay and once he got over that he would be happy and straight.

He didn't want to talk about his father either.

His new therapist wanted him to be on medication, so he was on the waiting list to see a psychiatric nurse practitioner. Unfortunately, the wait was a couple months out. That was just what happened when it was the only clinic in town that would take Medicaid.

He was so tired, tired of sitting in waiting rooms, tired of paperwork, tired of playing phone tag, tired of being tired. Groups helped a little bit. He didn't talk much, but hearing other people share the same feelings he had was helpful. There was no other place where you could say "whenever I drive over a bridge I have an almost unstoppable urge to drive off it and then I throw up and cry for four hours" and everyone else in the room would nod and say "been there done that."

Of course, the highlight of his life was his weekly get togethers with North. He hated himself for it. Every time they sat down together he was like a teenager again and it scared him. He constantly reminded himself that that's how it started with Epsilon and look how that turned out. They met at a mental health clinic for Christ's sake so he already knew that North was unstable! And yet, the heart wants what it wants. And the heart is fucking stupid. His therapist had given him literature on codependent relationships, had cautioned him against making emotional decisions. He wanted to scream "I know I know!" but if he knew, why was he still doing it? His heart soared when they sat down together at a Starbucks, Theta sitting quietly at their feet, but he crashed as soon as they parted, falling into a pit of self loathing. It was intense, it was inappropriate, it was probably a little creepy, but week after week they met.

And the craziest thing about it was that North seemed to enjoy it as much as he did.

So the cycle repeated itself over and over and Wash didn't have the heart to stop it.

They celebrated with bagels when Wash got the job. He purposefully shared when he was working with North, hoping desperately that he would not come in then. He didn't want North to see him there. North mentioned that he didn't get fast food very often anyway.

Everything was okay, stable. It wasn't getting any better, but it wasn't getting any worse either. It was easy to fall into a routine, even his periods of depression grew monotonous. He actively asked for more hours on the days after meeting with North so he wasn't stuck at home to wallow in his sadness.

On one of the rare occasions that Wash was called in to work the day shift, he was coming in from a trash run when he saw him at the counter. North had been unable to make it to groups or coffee that week (devastating Wash more than he knew was okay). Theta was with him and he was leaning heavily on a cane. He had never seen North use a can before. After ordering he limped over to one of the handicap accessible tables and gingerly lowered himself into it. Theta was wearing a different vest than one he'd seen him in before. It was red, with patches that said "DO NOT PET" and "SERVICE DOG: DO NOT DISTRACT" on it. Wash finished putting away his cleaning supplies and snuck back to the kitchen to finish his stocking.

"Christian!" one of the crew members called out, carrying a tray to the counter. When they saw that North was struggling to stand, they instructed the cashier to take it to him. North thanked them quietly, tight lipped. Wash had never seen him like this before. He'd seen him cry and panic in group and the way his face would contort for a moment when Wash accidentally stirred up some bad memories, but this was different. This wasn't the same confident North that he looked forward to seeing every week. Wash wanted to comfort him, to be there for him, to suggest techniques that he had learned in group, but he knew it wasn't his place. He realized how little he really knew about him. By the time he finished stocking the freezer, North was gone. He clocked out and returned home. He lay in bed, exhausted as he usually was, but unable to doze. There was too much on his mind.

He stared up at the ceiling as he remembered the way that North had hidden his face as he ate, ashamed, avoiding any contact with anyone else. He remembered how Theta sat quietly and still, staring at North, focused, ears perked forward. He couldn't stand it. He had purposefully dulled his empathy over the years, but now that he was letting himself care about someone again he couldn't stop it. He wanted to protect North, to help him, to take on his pain instead so he didn’t have to feel it. It was how he felt about Epsilon when they were together.

What should he do? Should he say something the next time they saw each other or pretend it never happened. He clenched his fingers into his pillow in frustration. He didn't know how to do this! He didn't want a repeat of Epsilon. He wanted to have healthy boundaries like they talked about in group, he just didn't know how to do that!

He tossed and turned in his bed for hours before giving up on sleeping. It was still early in the afternoon. He covered his face with his pillow and groaned loudly. There was so much rolling around in his head, he couldn't just zone out, scrolling aimlessly on his laptop like he could when he was just sad. It felt like everything he was thinking, all his worries were under his skin trying to get out, burning and itching.

So, for the first time in months, he put on his jogging pants, grabbed his keys and pepper spray, and tried to lose himself in music and the rhythm of his feet pounding on the sidewalk. He realized immediately how out of shape he was, but he pushed on. It was enough that when he made it back to his apartment he simply stripped off all of his clothes and collapsed on the mattress and passed out immediately.

His alarm woke him up before work the next day. He had slept for twelve hours straight. His entire body hurt. He crawled to the bathroom to piss, ignoring how messy his floor was. He pushed dirty clothes aside and took a swig of mouthwash and spat it in the toilet before flushing. He looked at himself in the mirror. God he was a mess. He looked how he felt. He scrunched his nose and scratched at his stubble. That needed to be taken care of, but today was not that day. He knew he needed to shower before work and that was enough of a challenge without the added task of shaving. He just needed to not smell enough to offend his coworkers and he would be good. Maybe they would put him on dishes. He could deal with that. He could just put in his ear buds and zone out for six hours or, at least, try to.

He didn't know how long his shower lasted or what amount of time he spent leaning slumped up against the wall, but he managed to soap himself up and rinse and that's what mattered. He opened the fridge to find something to eat and managed to put together some cold cuts in a tortilla with shredded cheese. When was the last time he went shopping?

He wasn't even thinking about North, nope, definitely not, was what he told himself as he laced up his work shoes. He played bejeweled on his phone while he waited for the bus and did not think about North. By the time he got to work, he actually had stopped thinking about North as he was consumed with anxiety about his workplace. God he hated it here. He told himself that this job was just going to be for as long as it took to find a better one, but surprise surprise he hadn't actually been looking. He had a long week ahead of him and it was already Friday. He rolled his shoulders and pulled his face into something neutral before pulling the door open and stepping inside.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> North is sick, Wash hangs out with him

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm back in treatment so i have a feeling that this fic is going to be even more relevant in my life. Also, I chose writing for my goal workshop and I get to write in group and I set a weekly writing goal for that group so that's going to be great. There's also a creative writing club that I think I might join.
> 
> It's a bit short, but it's cute. Enjoy your fluff.

North did not come to group the next week. Wash chewed his fingernails to bleeding. Had he seen Wash at work? Did he hate him now? Aiden mentioned that Christian hadn't been feeling well and that's why he wasn't at group, but that could mean anything! Wash was unfocused all day at work as he tried to figure out what was going on. What would his therapist tell him?

_If you want to know what he's thinking, just ask him._

'I can't just ask him!' he argued back in his mind.

_You're going to tear yourself apart until you figure something out. Better ask him with a clear head before you call him crying asking what you did wrong._

Damn. When did he become so self aware?

He placed his phone on the bed and opened up a text to North. He paced back in forth in front of it, rehearsing what he would text for fifteen minutes before he settled on a simple "hey how are you?"

He watched his phone for an inappropriate amount of time before it buzzed.

"okay other than a minor sinus infection"

Wash sighed. So he actually wasn't feeling well. He looked up when his phone buzzed again.

"wbu?"

Wash stared at the screen. He had no idea how to answer that question. "just relaxing, day off tomorrow" he replied. It didn't imply any feelings or state of being, but if he wanted to interpret that as him doing well he wasn't going to stop him.

"are you busy rn?"

Wash's heart raced. "no." he replied too quickly.

"can you do me a huge favor?"

Wash was already half out the door when he responded yes. North needed him to pick up some food for him, saying he could get some for himself and that he'd take care of it. Wash spent 10 minutes staring at the menu of a sandwich shop before he could decide on something. He showed up on North's doorstep an hour later with some chicken noodle soup and a meatball sub. North opened the door, his pale face looked relieved to see him. His nose was red and he had dark bags under his eyes, but smiled with his dry lips.

"Thank you so much," he said with a gravelly throat. "I've been eating cold pizza for days. Want some tea?" he asked. Wash panicked and shook his head even though he really did want some. He watched uncomfortably as North dropped the box of tea and struggled to pick it up. He was paralyzed, not sure if he should offer to help or comment.

They sat down at the dinner table and ate while Theta chewed absently on a toy. It was strange to see the normally alert dog relaxing on the floor. North's spirits seemed to improve the more time Wash spent with him, but he couldn't quite relax.

"So…" he started, rubbing his elbow with the opposite hand, not looking at North. "I saw you at work the other day…"

North stopped, spoon partway to his mouth. His lips were tight, but it was hard to tell what he was feeling with his already ill complexion.

"Oh," he answered after a while. He sniffed, but Wash couldn't tell if it was because of his illness or something else.

"Do you…want to talk about it?" he offered.

North stirred his soup for a bit, thinking. Wash wasn't sure if he would be much good to talk to. "It's just…it's hard…" he said with a sigh. "It's bad enough needing…help with things, but it's just a hundred times worse the way people treat you, the way they look at you. People treat me like I'm made of glass when they interact with me, but they act like using a cane makes me deaf too! The things people say when they don't think you can hear them. And everyone feels entitled to know why, like strangers just come up to you in public at the library or on the bus like it's any of their goddamn business. And when they find out you're a veteran they're all "god bless you sir" or "thank you for your service" like they cared at all when I was homeless. The same people who buy me fucking lunch and tell me how thankful they are for what I did for them are the same fucking people who looked down on me when I was panhandling and told me to get a job." North pressed his palms to his eyes, but Wash couldn't tell if he was crying or not. His nose was running down his chin.

Wash was frozen. This was good, right? North was letting it all out, he trusted Wash enough to tell him this, and Wash felt good that he could help, but he didn't know what to do. How did you comfort people. So, he just sat and listened as North told him all about his troubles with his health and his benefits and his flashbacks and nightmares and how he got so paranoid that he wouldn't even open the door for the pizza delivery boy, sliding money under the door and telling him to keep the change and just leave.

He was definitely crying now, his entire face, ears, and neck glowing red. He was running his fingers through his hair over and over again, shaking them off when they came away with loose hair. Wash wasn't sure how he was able to remain so calm, but he did. He let North say everything he wanted to say, then went and got napkins and refilled his tea for him. He looked miserable when Wash came back in.

He paused, thinking about his next do. So far his inner therapist had helped, what would they tell him now.

_How would you feel if you just spilled your guts out to a friend that you've never talked to like this?_

'Vulnerable,' Wash thought, 'angry at myself, stupid.'

_And what would you want your friend to do for you?_

Wash set the mug down in front of North who was cleaning up his face and sat back down across from him.

"Sorry you had to sit through all that," North said, then inhaled the steam from his tea.

"What are friends for?" Wash replied with a thick tongue.

North stopped and smiled at him.

"Besides, you can't keep that all bottled up," he said next, fully realizing the irony in the statement. He cleared his throat, trying to find the right words. "I'm...really proud of you for sharing that with me. That must have been really difficult...and scary." He avoided North's eyes. "I'm really glad you reached out to me. Asking for help is really hard." The words hung heavy in the air while they both took them in. Wash hoped that was the right thing to say. This was all very new to him. "Do you feel better?"

North took a moment, still processing, then nodded. "Yes in the emotional sense, not so much in the headache sense." He whistled and Theta perked his head up. "Theta: pills," he said making a hand gesture. Theta got up and came back with a small case. North unzipped it and pulled out some sudafed.

"That's handy," Wash commented.

"Yeah, if I have to see the silver lining in everything it's gotta be Theta." He scratched the dog behind the ears. "He's been there for me since I came back from Afghanistan, through thick and thin. Even when I was living on the street and I couldn't feed him he never left my side." His eyes started watering again and he blew his nose. "It took forever before I could get him certified as a service dog, even though he knew all his tasks backwards and forwards and he was great in public and he alerts to panic attacks, but they wanted me to go through one of their organizations, like I had the money for that."

"But you got him certified?" he asked.

North nodded. "I got in touch with a disability advocacy group in town when I moved here and they helped me. They helped me get housing, medicaid, a job. I can mostly support myself now." He stretched and sighed. "I've come a long way. Thanks for listening to an old man complain."

Wash snorted. "You're not old!" Although, maybe he just had a thing for older guys. "If you feel old, I'll tell you a secret."

North raised an eyebrow.

"This isn’t my natural hair color." Wash twisted a couple hairs in between his fingertips. "Used to be. I'm already greying."

"What? No!" North said. "How old are you?"

"Twenty-eight. I'll be twenty-nine in November."

"Well," North said with a shrug. "I think you look very handsome, even with grey hair."

Wash stared at North and went very red. North was smiling at him sleepily. He told himself that it was the sudafed talking, but he felt giddy all the same. "You're not so bad yourself…old man," he teased.

"Do you want to stay and watch a movie?" North offered. "You said you have the day off tomorrow, right?"

Wash swallowed. "Yeah. I'd like that."

They moved to the living room and Wash tried not to feel uncomfortable on a strange couch. He picked at his fingernails while North picked a movie. He settled on "Secondhand Lions."

North explained that it was his favorite movie. He couldn't watch many movies, too many explosions and loud noises, so he just watched the same movies over and over. Wash felt happy that North would let him share the experience with him. He was able to actually relax, even tuning out Theta's quiet breathing.

North fell asleep on the couch halfway through the movie and after it was over he quietly let himself out. He walked home, trying to hold onto the happy, serene feeling he had spending time with North, even as the anxiety of walking home at night crept over him. He kept one hand wrapped tightly around his pepper spray and the other around the whistle on his keychain. Even though every sound and shadow made him jump, he felt safer than he usually did. Maybe he wasn't so bad at this stuff after all.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> North asks Wash a question. Chaos ensues.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't know how people have relationships.

"Hey Wash," North said to him, staring into his coffee. Wash looked up from his phone. "Do you want to maybe go on a date?"

Wash's brain stopped. All processes halted. He stopped thinking, feeling, breathing, it felt like even his heart stopped. His entire body was frozen. North looked frightened by the reaction, but Wash couldn't get himself to move. He stared at North, stock still, for a good half a minute before Theta wuffed and pressed his cold nose against his hand. Wash jumped in shock, but it was enough to pull him back to reality.

"A date?" he sputtered. "Wha- with me?" All of his body systems had restarted and he could practically feel the blood vessels in his face dilating and his sweat glands amping up. All he could hear was his own heartbeat and the blood rushing in his head. He reached for his tea and accidentally knocked it over. He cursed and jumped up, then tripped over his chair and fell backwards and hit his head on the ground.

He groaned and rolled over, clutching his head. When he opened his eyes he saw North, Theta and several other people standing over him. He felt so vulnerable underneath their gazes. Their mouths were moving, but he couldn't understand what the were saying. Someone touched his shoulder and he shouted. It was too much, there were too many, he had to escape. He lurched to his feet and pushed out of the ring of people and took off out the door.

He didn't know where he was or where he was going, but he had to get away. He kept running and running until he couldn't run anymore. He looked around and recognized the area. There was a park nearby where he could go and hide. It was a school day, so there weren't any kids. So, he climbed up onto the playground equipment and squeezed himself into a big plastic tube. He curled into a ball and focused on his breathing.

He imagined his breathing like white light that filled his body and protected him, visualized the light washing away the shadows of his fear and pain. He constantly had to pull himself back to his breathing as he drifted back into the fear. After a while, he returned to reality.

He crawled out of the tube, his muscles were sore and cramped. There were some teenagers watching him from one of the picnic tables and he hid his face as he climbed down from the equipment. He went to check his phone for the time, but found that it was not in his pocket. He must have dropped it at the café. He sat down at the base a tree and brought his knees up to his chest. He hit his forehead against them, cursing himself.

Why did he have to be this way? Why did he have to freak out and ruin everything? Hot tears were running down his face. He was exhausted. He pulled his sleeves down over his hands and scrubbed his face. He shivered. He must have left his jacket at the café too.

What was he supposed to do now? How could he ever face North after this? North must think that he hated him. Why couldn't he have just said 'Yes, North, I would love to go on a date with you' like a normal, functioning human being? It was still early in the afternoon and the kids would be out of school soon which meant his sanctuary was going to become busy and he would need to leave. He figured it was better to start walking now before he got overwhelmed again.

He looked up and saw someone standing nearby, watching him. He rubbed the tears from his eyes so he could make out the figure. There were two figures, a man and a dog. For a moment, he panicked. It was Epsilon and Omega, they had found him. He pressed himself back into the tree, looking for an escape route before he remembered that Epsilon was dead and Omega was in a shelter in another state and that the person standing a couple yards away was actually North.

He hid his face in shame and curled further in on himself. He listened as North approached, his feet crunching leaves with each step. He gingerly lowered himself to the ground next to Wash and draped his jacket over his shoulders. Wash immediately put it on backwards so he could bury his face in the hood.

"One time, back when I lived in Texas, I was at an office party at a bowling alley," North started casually, as if they were having a regular conversation. "I got there early to scope the place out, like I always do, identify all exits, check for enemy soldiers, let Theta get a good look at the place. There was no one else there yet, so it was pretty quiet. I thought everything was going to be okay. Then, after everyone showed up and started actually bowling I lost it. The sounds triggered a flashback to when a car bomb when off near one of the Humvees in my convoy. I ended up punching out my boss and barricading myself behind the concession stand." He sighed and Wash could hear Theta's collar jingling as he scratched his ears. "I almost went to jail, Theta was almost put down for protecting me. Needless to say I was fired. Well, probably. I didn't answer any phone calls from anyone for about two weeks and I never went back to the office. I left one of my favorite watches there that I never got back."

By the time he had finished talking, Wash had pulled the hood down, revealing his face. "Then what happened?" he asked quietly, his voice rough.

"My sister showed up at my apartment a month later because she stopped hearing from me. By then, my electricity and my phone had been turned off and I was living off of protein bars and meal replacement drinks. She took me to the hospital and I stayed there for about a week and a half. It brought me back to reality long enough to start kind of being myself again. After we got everything all taken care of there, I moved here so I could be closer to her." North pulled out his phone and showed him a picture of a sour looking woman in a rugby jersey. She was definitely his sister. They had the same cheekbones and the same blonde hair, though he couldn't imagine North ever making a face like that. "If she doesn't hear from me in over a week, she comes to check up on me. I don't know where I would be without her. For a really long time, I just felt like a burden. I had always taken care of her when we were kids and here she was, a grown woman with a life and a career, having to take care of a grown man. I still feel that way sometimes. But, it's not just her taking care of me. I take care of her too, just in different ways. I drive her around since her license has been suspended and let her bitch to me about community service. It's interdependence. We're both there for each other." He turned to Wash with a soft smile. It wasn't the sad, pitying smile he got from most people or the forced, frightened smile he got from others. It was a smile that was just nice. "I want to be there for you, Wash."

Wash's tongue felt heavy in his mouth. He cleared his throat. "Does that mean the offer still stands?" he asked, not looking at North.

"The offer?" North wondered.

"To go on a date?" he clarified, hiding the lower half of his face in his hood.

North smiled. "Yeah, the offer still stands." He sighed with relief and started to laugh. "That's good to hear. I thought this all happened because you _didn't_ want to go out."

Wash put his hand on the ground. North put his hand on top of it. Wash let his body lean and kind of just fall onto North's shoulder and North leaned his head on top of his.

"I can't feel my butt," Wash muttered.

North chuckled and sat up. "How about we go somewhere a little warmer? I know a good café." Wash gave him a look. "A different café. Quiet. The owner's a friend of mine."

Wash smiled. "Let's call it a date," he said. He stood up and wiped the leaves and dirt off of the back of his pants. He saw that North was having some trouble and held out a hand. North looked down, embarrassed, but he took the hand and Wash helped him up.

**Author's Note:**

> I feel like this fic is actually going to be super therapeutic to write to deal with my own PTSD. I see a lot of fics with mental illness/PTSD in Wash so I thought it would be cool to highlight how this kind of stuff effects different people differently, namely in Wash and North. Of course, I only know of my own experiences so if I write something grossly ableist please let me know so I can do better.


End file.
